Alice’s Shameless Spinster’s Society Read online

  Alice’s Shameless Spinster’s Society

  The Spinster’s Society

  Charlotte Stone

  A Regency Romance Book

  Contents

  Copyright

  Find Out More

  Personal word from Charlotte Stone

  Dedication

  About The Author

  Chapter One

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  Chapter Two

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  Chapter Three

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  Chapter Four

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  Chapter Five

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  Chapter Six

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  Chapter Seven

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  Chapter Eight

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  Chapter Nine

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  Chapter Ten

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  Chapter Eleven

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  Chapter Twelve

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  Chapter Thirteen

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  Chapter Fourteen

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  Chapter Fifteen

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  Chapter Sixteen

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  Chapter Seventeen

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  Chapter Eighteen

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  Chapter Nineteen

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  Chapter Twenty

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  Chapter Twenty-one

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  Chapter Twenty-two

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  Chapter Twenty-three

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  Chapter Twenty-four

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  Chapter Twenty-five

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  Chapter Twenty-six

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  Chapter Twenty-seven

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  Chapter Twenty-eight

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  Chapter Twenty-nine

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  Chapter Thirty

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  Chapter Thirty-one

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  Chapter Thirty-two

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  Chapter Thirty-three

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  Chapter Thirty-four

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  Epilogue

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  Preview of Next Book

  READING LIST . Also By

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  Publishers Notes

  Copyright © 2017 by

  Charlotte Stone

  All Rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Click the yellow Find Out More link button below to get started

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  PERSONAL WORD

  FROM CHARLOTTE STONE

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  Dear lovely readers,

  The characters of my writings are women who have a strong mind of their own, women who know what they want to pursue in life. It is their tenacity to finding true love that drives them to overcome the challenges which they may face while waiting for the man of their dreams.

  Will such tenacity of their believing bring them true love in spite of the societal-standing challenges one will face in an era such as that of Regency.

  Read on to find out the answers!

  Thank you once again for your strong support in my writing journey!

  Much Love,

  * * *

  DEDICATION

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  “A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”

  Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

  Specially Dedicated to you, my Dear Reader!

  It is with a heart of gratitude that I wrote this message of dedication to you.

  Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share with you my writings.

  I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

  It is support like yours that keep authors like us going and striving to write even better novels for you!

  Have you checked out my other historical romance book series?

  Click the link below to get started

  *** Amazon US ***

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  Got something to share?

  I would want to hear from you!

  So please do get in touch with me:

  https://www.facebook.com/charlottestonebooks

  [email protected]

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  * * *

  In a near cynical world which we are currently living in, Charlotte finds comfort in the readings of Regency Romance writings, one of her favourite would be Laura Kinsale’s Flowers from the storm where the female character loves and saves the male lead character who is a stroke victim. It was such writings which inspired her to be an author herself.

  In Charlotte’s writings, the characters are able to see beyond the imperfections of each other and to accept and love one another, just the way one is.

  Isn’t this true of our inner self? To be able to find someone who is able to see the beauty in us, in spite of all imperfections we might have.

  Isn’t this true of what love really should be? Ever accepting, ever loving, ever seeking.

  May you find love and acceptance in Charlotte’s writings.

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  CHAPTER ONE

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  July 1813

  London, England

  Alice Wilkins followed the servant’s directions and moved around the people who crowded the halls, taking note to make sure she avoided stepping on toes and ball gowns… her own included. She loathed balls. Society was not part of the world she’d been raised in but, more recently than she’d have wished, she was becoming a frequent guest at every elaborate party, all in her aunt’s hopes that she would marry well, even though her mother had failed.

  There seemed no better place to look for a husband than at the engagement of another. This celebration was in honor of Emmett Starr, the Earl of Ashwick, and Lady Lorena Cullip. Alice was happy to note that the couple looked very much in love. It had been hard not to stare at them as Ashwick and his fiancée danced the waltz twice, which was a scandal in itself, but then Lady Lorena had danced with a few other men. Alice had noted they were all handsome and seemed to have a familiarity with her. She’d never met Lady Lorena, but she’d known a few of her dance partners through their membership at Wilkins’, the gentleman’s club owned by her father.

  A few had even danced with her cousin, Rose. Aunt Arrah had tried to get Alice onto the floor as well but Alice had refused.

  The only reason she entertained her aunt’s ambitions was because the woman was nearly blind and had the tendency to fall asleep even while standing. Alice often found herself able to slip away without her aunt noticing.

  Like now.

  She was looking for Rose and a servant had told her he’d seen her cousin slip off into a room toward the back of Viscount of Dovehaven’s home.

  As she walked in that direction, she took in the house around her and, not for the first time, wondered what it would be like to live in such a residence. She’d heard the viscount had won the house in the very gaming hell that Alice’s father owned, procuring it from a wealthy merchant to the ton’s extreme delight. They delighted in anything that kept the lower-class low.

  Yet another reason she simply didn’t belong.

  As
she made it to the last door in the hall, Alice wondered what Rose was up to. Her cousin was known for causing trouble and, usually, Alice took the blame to spare Rose any embarrassment. After all, Rose was the daughter of a marquess, while Alice was the daughter of a club owner. Even if Alice lived her life as delicately and as pure as a lily, she would always be looked upon as though she smoked pipes and drank brandy in the company of gentlemen, which wasn’t true at all.

  Alice always took her brandy alone.

  When she heard a disturbing sound, Alice pushed open the door and her blood ran cold at what she saw.

  Rose knelt on top of a large bed with her cream and pink embroidered dress fanned around her but what caught Alice’s eye was the fact that she was on top of a man.

  Rose’s blond head turned in Alice’s direction and her blue eyes widened before she scrambled off the bed.

  Or at least she tried.

  The man’s large hands shot up and grabbed Rose around the waist, forcing her back down upon him.

  “Where do you think you’re off to, love?” he said in a deep seductive voice that Alice recognized instantly. It was a voice she’d not heard in weeks but one she’d never forget.

  Rose looked behind her again, her eyes full of remorse.

  The traitor.

  The moment grew worse when the man lifted his head, and Alice stared into his vibrant hazel eyes.

  Calvin Lockwood lifted a confused brow. “Alice?”

  Alice backed away from the door until they were both out of her sight then she continued to back away until her back hit the wall behind her. She pressed her hands against the solid structure and tried to get her breathing under control but she found it hard to do when faced with the fact that her heart was broken.

  She closed her eyes.

  “Alice?” Rose called.

  She opened them as Rose headed in her direction while she straightened her clothes.

  Alice ran toward the door that led out into the night. She heard her name called again and closed the door behind her, shutting out the light from inside before she slipped further into the darkness.

  She found herself in a garden and ran toward the hedges. She lost herself in the maze, turning left and then right and holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

  Not yet.

  She had to hold them back and make sure they didn’t fall where anyone could see her. A man and woman stood by a fountain and they both gasped as she ran past them. She made another series of turns until she came to a moonlit bench by a tree.

  She sat and allowed the first tears to fall as she called herself all manner of cruel names.

  She’d expected this of Mr. Lockwood. She’d heard reports from the numerous women whose bodies he’d claimed. Many of those women worked for her father. But she’d never have thought Rose would betray her. Her own cousin. Rose knew that Alice was in love with him and had been for years. Never mind that Calvin never paid her any mind…

  Until exactly six weeks ago.

  The last time she’d seen Calvin, they’d been caught by her father. But she recalled how her body had reacted when he’d kissed her. She’d been putting together a stack of cards from a table that was no longer in use when he’d stepped up behind her, grabbed her waist, and pressed his mouth to her throat.

  Alice had dropped the cards in favor of holding onto the table. She’d shivered as Calvin’s mouth grew aggressive and his hands scored her body. Alice had felt on the verge of fainting when he’d finally spun her around and claimed her mouth, pushing her against the table until she’d had no choice but to climb on it, which had been exactly what he’d wanted.

  He’d moved in between her legs, never breaking the kiss. One hand had controlled her by holding the back of her neck, keeping her mouth pinned under his, while his hand had moved up and cupped her breast through the dark work dress that she wore most days. Its fabric was rough and when he’d found her nipple, her entire body had vibrated. Just when she’d thought it wouldn’t get any better, he’d said her name.

  “Alice.” The tone of his voice held reverence, anguish, and something else. Something she’d hoped entailed just as much longing as she had for him.

  She’d placed her hands on his neck and he’d lifted his head, pushing back his blond hair with his hands. His eyes met hers and she’d seen he was drunk. Looking into his hazel eyes was like looking at the richest brandy through a glass. Beautiful even when inebriated.

  She’d smiled, not caring in the least that he’d most likely not remember kissing her, only because he’d known exactly who he’d been kissing when he’d done it.

  Then his hands had slid down until they’d landed on her lap and his fingers curved around the top of each of her thighs and he released a sound that was both groan and sigh. Their heads tilted down to see where his hands rested, his bare tanned skin against her nearly black dress, creating creases in the material from his firm grip. Then her eyes had moved to his hair and her hands moved through the strands, parting the waves because for the first time she was free to do so. His blond was not pure but instead held strands that ran the gamut from the lightest white to nearly brunette at the roots.

  She’d never forget just how good it had felt to touch him, the sound of his heated breath, or the words that followed.

  “If you were mine…”

  She’d stilled.

  His head rose, and his hazel eyes returned to hers. “If you were mine, I would—”

  But he never got the chance to finish his words. Her father, Ralph Wilkins, had found them, accused Calvin of taking advantage of her, and had him blackballed that same night.

  She’d worked at changing her father’s mind, but she and Calvin had been caught in what had become a very sensitive place for Ralph after an employee had died there. Mr. Thomas St. George had taken a ladder to fix a clock on a high wall when he’d fallen from it. Ralph hadn’t found him until hours later and grew more distraught every time he walked into that room. So, she’d kept her silence for the time being.

  For weeks, she’d hoped Calvin would return and finish his words. She’d gone to sleep at night envisioning him crawling through her window like a prince from a fairytale and taking her away to a better life, a life where she was respected and seen as a woman.

  Calvin’s kiss was the first time Alice had ever felt… delicate and feminine.

  Over the years, she had found herself in other compromising positions with her father’s men. She was taller than the average woman, and her father had claimed she’d gained admirers because she looked like her mother, with hair the color of night, eyes the shade of day, and skin the color of winter snow. He’d accused her of growing curves much too soon, as though she could control what Mother Nature gave her. By sixteen, she’d begun to wear dresses that were much too large for her but hid her body, which was what her father preferred. Still, the men had come. Some had been drunk, others not so. All had been blackballed, until at last the men who spent time at Wilkins’ understood that Alice was not to be touched.

  Until Calvin.

  For the first time, she’d wanted that touch and she’d told Rose everything about her one encounter with the man she’d been in love with since the day he’d walked into Wilkins’ six years ago.

  And in one night, her heart felt as though it had been ripped from her chest and torn to pieces, never to be mended again.

  Alice stared into the night and dried her eyes with her gloves, declaring herself utterly done with Calvin Lockwood and Rose Beck.

  If you were mine…

  The issue was that many a woman had been Calvin Lockwood’s.

  Alice stood as anger dried her tears more quickly than she could wipe them away. Her body felt hot as her thoughts grew cold. Calvin was a cad! A horrible, horrible cad and she never wanted to see him again. That kiss had meant nothing to him, while it had meant the world to her. But no more would she hold fast to the feelings she’d let grow since she was a child.

  She loathed him no
w.

  Utterly and completely.

  She started to pace in front of the bench and her thoughts turned to words as she spoke loudly into the night. “How dare he kiss me and then touch my cousin! The cad!” Her slippers did not make the thumping sound that her boots would have made as she marched back and forth but her body grew warmer with each step, sweeping away her sadness for the pleasant feeling of affirmation and contentment.

  The feeling traveled through her and settled like a wool blanket over her heart. She knew it to be strong enough to protect her from further heartache and pain. Blankets, whether imagined or otherwise, always gave Alice comfort. She’d been born a violent sleeper and remembered the nights her mother would slip into her room, adjust whatever limb she’d misplaced back on the bed, then smooth her blanket back over her body.